The Sabbatical for Green Forces
by Jepoliant
Summary: (discontinued) Tarn, not willing to succumb to the fate of his father, chooses to throw away his potential to be one of the greatest Earth magicians for a spiritual quest that is bound to lead him to a greater understanding of life and forces of the fores
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All characters (except Tarn), concepts, and spells are copyright and property of Wizards of the Coast. No infringment on these rights is intended.

**Prologue: The Background of the Quest**

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Tarnashta knelt in deep concentration on the forest floor. While his father, Tahngarth of the Weatherlight, had been something of a master of the element Earth, as the laws of inevitability demanded from a minotaur, Tarn was reluctant to follow this legacy. Instead, deciding to take fate into his own hands, he set forth to grapple with his own destiny. Yet, as it is only a fool who would willingly travel into the Llanowar forests on sabbatical without a bodyguard, Tarn first went to the mountains to barter with Halina, the dwarven trader, for the services of his Anaba bodyguard, whom he grudgingly handed over. It was good that the name of Tahngarth still inspired some amount of respect by these dirty highland traders, for the ability to navigate through the mountains was limited only to those who had completely embraced the power of mountain mana, such as his new bodyguard.

Sure, he had a few spells in his pocket, and could command some sort of respect, but his heart wasn't in it. Red just wasn't his color. This was the very reason that Tarn would risk his family's respected name and Earth master potential, to study the forest arts. While the mana that resides in the mountains relies upon strength, fire, and death, the mana of the forests hones from life, nature, and the essence of being. Tarn wasn't without the strength of mind and character needed for the harsh realities of red magic, but his heart just wasn't in it, he had the will and heart designed for the secrets of the living not those of the dead.

And it was with this will he started forward on his spiritual journey armed only with his Anaba bodyguard and a few spells of varying powers and mana.

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Note by the author: Sorry if this prologue is dry and short, it is merely an introduction. The action with much usage of spells and new magical theories will appear in the chapters, this was just a lead off into the story. 


	2. Chapter 1: The Power of Realization

Disclaimer: In this fic, all characters (except Tarn), spells, and concepts are copyright and property of Wizards of the Coast. No infringment is intended.

**Chapter 1: The Power of Realization**

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Tarn stirred. As a memory of his father's mutated face shimmered in his mind's eye an overwhelming sense of doubt disturbed his dream. Shaking himself vigorously awake, he berated himself. Doubt was as clear as any a way to failure. He could feel no doubt. It was too late anyway, Tarn had already severed as many ties to his past as he could for this adventure. 

Peering over the edge of his bedroll he spied Anaba, his bodyguard, squatting in peace, scanning the horizon for any possible signs of attack. Briefly Tarn wondered if Anaba's kind ever actually needed any sleep, he hadn't seen Anaba use his bedroll yet and they had been on the trail through the mountains for three days already, with not a hint of trouble. Tarn had taken to calling his companion 'Anaba' for lack of any other name to call him, for Anaba had not yet spoken a word on their journey. This made for lonely travel. 'Nevertheless,' Tarn thought, 'it is comforting to know that I have an ally on this road.'

Jumping up to his feet Tarn dusted off his travel clothing with his raw hands and walked with caution over to Anaba, not wishing to startle the beast.

"Anaba," Tarn said quietly, lightly tapping him on the shoulder, "we travel at first light." A grunt of agreement was all the reply that Anaba gave. It was all the reply that Anaba ever gave and Tarn was beginning to get used to distinguishing the different tones that Anaba could grunt.

It was still half an hour to first light, so Tarn had time to oil his leather vest armor, not wishing it to fall into disrepair. While not quite the proficient soldier, Tarn still insisted that he had the best armor an weapons available. It was not for nothing that he had brought his savings of gold, for he somewhat hoped that his fine weapons would more than cover for his lack of skill with the blade. Wiping off the sand that had fallen into the creases in the material, Tarn sighed deeply. The sands of the mountains were so unforgiving to his armor, and Tarn knew that the peacefulness that had followed them thus far would not last forever. He must be ready, always, and with little skill of magic, he must place trust in his physical skills with the blade and trust his armor to protect himself against magical harm.

A low growl nearby awoke him from his reverie. Anaba was ready to leave, and peering out toward the horizon Tarn saw the glory oranges and yellows of the sunrise. Nodding in silent agreement Tarn rolled up his bedroll and stuffed it back into his pack, setting foot back on the trail.

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Towards midday, Anaba, who had taken the lead on the trail as the more adept tracker, stopped without warning, turning to Tarn with a motion for silence. Tarn stayed silent for caution's sake, but signaled his inquiries to Anaba, they were not due for a rest for another hour at the least.

Pointing at a soft indentation in the ground with his fat stubbly fingers, Anaba growled softly. Not quite understanding the trouble but knowing that it must be something of significance, Tarn drew his sword and watched for signs of movement in the surrounding rocks. Anaba slowly backpedaled against a near outcropping, and without hesitation and with a flash of speed I had not though capable of the big beast, he snatched a squiggling vicious looking creature from behind the rocks.

"Goblins," Anaba growled with forceful distaste on his voice. Besides the overwhelming shock of Anaba speaking for the first time, Tarn's instincts took over with the knowledge of an upcoming battle.

It was at this moment that all hell broke loose.

Raging Goblins streamed from rock outcroppings screaming an undistinguishable yet terrible battle cry as Vashino Sandscouts swung from the cliff sides onto the nearby path with a murderous intent. Tarn yelled over to Anaba with regards to tactics, only to realize that all his learning of tactics would go out the window at this point. With seeming calmness, Anaba knelt on the mountain trail and began a chant, casting Giant Growth upon himself, making him more powerful and able to take on more of these creatures. Then, standing with rage clearly etched upon his bull shaped face, he brought his broadsword up and took out four of the creatures flowing towards him with one swipe. Not one had touched him. Anaba truly had the power of first strike. Tarn on the other hand was being attacked relentlessly and without mercy by the goblins. As luck would have it, Tarn's armor withstood their puny attacks while Tarn himself cast a Wall of Fire around himself and Anaba.

Startled at the respite, Anaba looked around at the dancing flames. With a raise of his brows and a sudden understanding he faced Tarn. "How long can you keep these flames up?" he demanded of Tarn, glaring directly into his eyes.

Stuttering at the forcefulness his companion displayed he brokenly replied, "as long as those creatures don't summon something larger and we don't move."

Anaba nodded and immediately knelt on the ground again, chanting with a sense of urgency. A flame issued from his palms and continued to grow in size until it was slightly larger than the beast himself. Opening his eyes and ceasing his chanting, the flames staying within his palms, Anaba said, "Put down your wall minotaur, there is no need anymore."

Reluctantly Tarn ceased his spell as a burst of heat seared by his left cheek and took out all of those beyond what had been the wall. Intrigued, Tarn turned to Anaba, who was in a balance of spell casting no longer. "Fireball," was all that Anaba would say as he began to again walk down the path. Stumbling after Anaba in awe, Tarn began to realize the awesome power of his bodyguard and, indeed his own fortune at being able to stay alive. A Fireball upon so many creatures could only be cast by one with great skill of the Earthly arts, a skill that far outstripped Tarn's own. Tarn was a struck with the incredible realization that he was not the yet the warrior that he had been led to believe, and made a promise to himself to strive harder to be more the warrior that he could be rather than merely slide by on image and bravado, as he now knew that it meant nothing to be egotistical without competence.

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_Author's Note_: I hope this lives up to the expectations of MTG fans, but in any case, after reading, reviews would be appreciated! I hope you enjoy! More to come soon! 


	3. Chapter 2: Armor

Disclaimer: All characters (except Tarn), spells, and concepts are copyright and property of Wizards of the Coast. No infringment is intended.

**Chapter 2: Armor**

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For several hours after the attack, Tarn and Anaba walked in meditative silence. This was nothing new for Anaba, for speaking was not usually his way. For Tarn however, he just could not think of anything appropriate to say, spending the remainder of the daylight hours pondering his fate

As the eve broke, there was an unspoken yet mutual understanding between the two traveling companions that they should begin looking for a defensible position for the night. Anaba, more familiar with the terrain, soon found such a likely spot; a soft indentation by a high ledge, leering over a narrow pass. To get up to the ledge by any creature means, one first must travel through the pass and with Anaba standing guard, such an effort would be unfounded.

Kneeling down to strike a fire the traditional way, Tarn glanced around and took stock to find that little damage had been done to their wares. There was still enough flat bread, salted meat, and water to ensure their hunger's satisfaction until the more bountiful forests could be reached. Finished with this chore, he unrolled his thing straw bedroll, sat, and began to oil his vest armor yet again.

"I am intrigued about your armor, my minotaur companion," said Anaba without forewarning. Tarn turned to find that Anaba had been peering over his shoulder while he worked. It slightly disturbed Tarn that he was not aware of having been watched, but then again, Anaba was seemingly full of surprises.

"My armor? What about it?" Tarn asked, waiting for Anaba's reply with peaking curiosity.

Anaba shifted slightly by the fire to get a better view of the plain looking leather. "Many times you were struck today by those little stickers the little vermin like to carry, yet you show no wound and your armor shows no wear. I am no fool. If that vest was genuine tempered leather, it would not have been left unscathed."

Tarn smiled knowingly. He was somehow satisfied with the knowledge that he now traveled with an intelligent companion. "Anaba, you're very perceptive. It's true, this armor isn't normal by many standards. It once belonged to the great Urza."

Anaba snorted with disbelief. "Do not attempt to mock me, my companion. I know of Urza's fabled armor and know it to be a magnificent contraption of steel inspired by Tawnos. Not even a fool would willingly believe that his leather vest was that armor! It's preposterous! But if you are unwilling to speak the truth, merely say so, for we are companions on a journey for which I am being paid, nothing more."

"Relax Anaba. I am neither lying nor do I mean any disrespect. When I said that the armor once belonged to Urza, I was speaking only the truth. This leather vest was one of Urza's earlier designs before he met Tawnos and incorporated metal in his designs."

"If this is so, then how is it that such an unproved mage such as yourself has managed to get a hold of it?"

Ignoring the remark that was damned near an insult, Tarn was forced to reveal something of his former life. "You may have heard of my father, Tahngarth, the Talruum Hero of the Weatherlight?"

"From passing stories around the campfire, sure, I have heard something of this legendary heroic minotaur."

"When my father, along with caption Garrard and the rest of the crew of the Weatherlight, battled with the Phyrexians, they were not alone. Urza himself was a long-feared enemy of the Phyrexians. For ten years my father fought side by side with Urza, learning much yet gaining little ground from the Phyrexians. Shortly after a reprieve from the battle began, Urza left for the Academy to study with Rayne, but before he left, he handed my father not a few of his earlier inventions for safe keeping and good use. There were two of these vests in that stash. My father now wears one, while I commandeered the other for this journey. I do not doubt that I would not be here at this very moment had it not been for Urza's generosity."

Somewhat impressed, Anaba reached for the vest as Tarn handed it to him for further scrutiny.

"You spin tall tales, young minotaur, and many years on the road have taught me to be wary of such tales." Anaba pondered momentarily while absently fingering the grooves and creases in the leather, then continued his speech, "Yet I am inclined to believe you. That this vest is of magic origins I cannot dispute, for not only have I seen it in battle, I can feel its rhythm now. Though I am a mere student of Magic myself, I confess that your story has credit."

'For one not inclined to speak on the road, he sure does have a brain for words,' Tarn thought, only half listening to Anaba's debate. Tarn knew he was telling the truth and that was all that mattered.

"Let us speak of your father again soon, young minotaur; I would like to hear more," pressed Anaba with a look in his eyes that could only show a deeper interest than what he would be saying. This look did not escape Tarn as he reached back for his vest and renewed his suspicion of this beast.

Exhausted from the fight and travel of the day, Tarn quickly turned in for the night, making sure that there was enough wood upon the fire for it to burn considerably late into the harsh cold of the nigh. During the night, Tarn only half-awoke once, when the fire was merely embers, and saw in a dream's eye Anaba kneeling in casting position as a blade danced before him. The fog of sleep overcoming his mind, Tarn was sure that this was a dream, and drifted off again, back into the land of nod.

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**Author's note**: I would really appreciate readers to review! I'd love to hear feedback as this is my first fanfic! Thank You! Enjoy. New chapter coming soon. 


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